


Pillar

by captain_iodine (orphan_account)



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Angst, F/M, I'm Sorry, as if you haven't played it through yet, spoilers for the Brotherhood ending, that seems to be all I'm good for lately
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 02:48:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8604214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/captain_iodine
Summary: Arthur Maxson comforts Sole in the wake of the destruction of the Institute.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt fill for [MaxRev](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MaxRev), as [requested here](http://captain-iodine.tumblr.com/post/153430861163/affectionate-moments-meme-31-maxson-and-fsole).
> 
> I realise I've been tackling these prompts slightly askew, but hey — I love to fudge the rules a little. I hope you like it!

The last of the synths have long since stopped fighting, but their unnerving carcasses still twitch erratically where they litter the ground.

The Brotherhood are far enough from the blast radius that they're somewhat safe from the radiation exposure after a dose or two of Rad-X and yet that smell is in the air, the faintest hint of ozone. Maxson can hear the click of the Geiger counters in the power armor his men wear, warning them of their imminent death should they linger too long.

He doesn't know why he allowed the Paladin to come back here — Sentinel soon, once the paperwork goes through — much less why he came with her. He has never seen her as anything but capable, and yet when she came to him with the request there was something raw about her, something fragile. He hadn't been able to say no.

She stands ahead of him now, a little closer to the radiation than he'd like. Her long hair hangs loose, not in its typical braid, flying free in the wind.

He can't help but wonder how much radiation that breeze casts off in their direction.

‘Soldier,’ he says: gentler than usual. ‘We should get moving.’

She answers with a fist in the air, her pointer finger extended to the sky.

_Give me a minute._

So he does, waiting patiently while the other soldiers patrol restlessly, eager to be away from this desolate place.

They're across the water from the ruins of C.I.T., but even here its absence on the horizon is stark — a void amid the crumbling skyline, a permanent reminder of the Institute’s defeat.

Of Father’s demise; Shaun, the Paladin’s son.

He can't begin to comprehend what it must feel like to push the button sealing the fate of your own blood, but then he was merely the one giving the order. It isn't his job to feel guilt, to feel remorse — and he never has.

Until now.

He's glad the Institute is gone, their sick technology destroyed with it, but he knows that she paid a higher cost than anyone to make it happen.

He had wanted to touch her, when she had turned to him after activating the detonator — to hold her.

He had always thought her beautiful; had always wondered what it would be like to run his fingers through her hair, to hold her hand, to wrap his arms around her slender waist.

He had praised her, once the deed was done. Thanked her for her loyal service, as though this were nothing more than a mission for her.

_Idiot._

He sees her move now, as if to take a step closer to the irradiated wreckage that lies ahead, but then he realizes she's falling.

He rushes to her side and catches her before she can hit the ground, and instead of pushing him away as he expects, she sinks into his arms. He kneels on the ground with her slight form against his body and holds her, keeping her close until the trembling starts, and long after it has finished.

When she is still, he buries his face in her hair and holds her all the tighter, whispering words of reassurance so softly that she probably can't even hear them.

It doesn't matter; nothing he says can come close to making things better.

She shifts, but instead of pulling away she twists to look up at him. Her eyes are dry, but her cheeks bear livid red marks from her tears.

She gazes at him so intently, so solemnly, that he almost wants to look away — and yet he can't. She holds him like that, captivated by her glance, and he can see words on her lips that she never quite gets around to forming.

Instead she moves and rests her head in the curve of his neck, her hair impossibly soft against his skin.

He knows they'll have a lot to talk about at the Prydwen, and there's the matter of finalizing her promotion; all he can think about however, as he feels her breathe slowly and levelly within his arms, is what he'll say to her when they finally have a moment alone.


End file.
